


Artistic License

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan drops by Joyce's gallery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pre-Columbian Art

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd by Sadbhyl.

Joyce was looking forward to a nice relaxing evening at home. The gallery had been quiet most of the day, so naturally the hours had dragged by. Even the shipment she received that afternoon had been small and quickly taken care of. Currently she was sitting next to one of the main showroom display cases, wasting time by carefully comparing invoices and billing statements. Unfortunately, her bookkeeping was impeccable, so she was almost finished. Well, that left either dusting, or closing a bit early. Leaving early was by far the more appealing option.  
  
The door chimed, rousing her out of her thoughts. Of course she would get a customer fifteen minutes before she closed. Well, business was business. With the entrance off-set from the room she was in, Joyce had just enough time to straighten up the papers and present a professional appearance.  
  
“Good evening, Joyce.”  
  
Her head snapped up at the smooth British tenor. Ethan Rayne stood before her, slick and self-possessed as ever. Joyce ignored the slight increase in heart rate he elicited.  
  
Keeping her tone casual. “Ethan. What brings you to Sunnydale?”  
  
“I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by. Always looking for new pieces of pre-Columbian art,” he said easily, studying a display.  
  
“From what Rupert tells me, you’re never just in the neighborhood.” She walked over to join him.  
  
“True, I always have an ulterior motive.”  
  
“So you aren’t here for the pre-Columbian art?” Joyce asked innocently. While it had been three weeks since she had seen him, thoughts of the night she had spent with him and Rupert still made her go weak.  
  
“What do you think?” Ethan turned and stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her.  
  
“That you like to live dangerously,” she closed the distance, pressing against him with a seductive smile.  
  
“I would have to say the same goes for you as well, my dear,” he smirked as he bent to kiss her.  
  
Joyce eluded him, not quite ready to give in just yet.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” She moved so one of the displays was between them.  
  
Ethan didn’t immediately reply. Good, she’d caught him off guard.  
  
“Are you more interested in pottery or statuary?” she clarified, tone businesslike and neutral.  
  
He surveyed the gallery. “Ceremonial masks, actually. Of which I see there is a noticeable lack.”  
  
“For a very good reason,” Joyce explained.  
  
“Ah, bad experience.”  
  
“I wouldn’t call zombies overrunning my home an enjoyable one.”  
  
“Was it Nigerian?”  
  
“Yes, it was,” she said with surprise.  
  
“They’re a bit notorious. I’m surprised Rupert didn’t warn you,” he said, making his way around the display.  
  
“Well, by the time he figured it out . . .”  
  
“It was too late,” Ethan nodded.  
  
“Aside from ceremonial masks, what else appeals to you?”  
  
“The human form. Female at present,” he strode closer.  
  
Joyce watched as he approached, every movement exuding sexual confidence. Ethan was a man very aware of his abilities.  
  
“See anything of interest?” she murmured.  
  
“I might,” he replied, pulling her against him with a gasp.  
  
“Might?” she rubbed against his prominent erection. “I’d say that’s more of a definite.”  
  
“I like to keep my options open.”  
  
“I think that decision has already been made for you.”  
  
“It’s out of my hands?”  
  
She reached between them and cupped Ethan firmly, “Completely.”  
  
“A better man would argue,” he whispered, mouth a hairsbreadth from hers.  
  
Darting out her tongue to run lightly across his lips. “What a shame,” she sighed.  
  
“Indeed,” he conceded before taking her mouth with his own.  
  
Slowly at first, tongues danced and explored, becoming reacquainted. Joyce’s hands wrapped around his back, finger tips reveling against the smooth, brick red fabric. Dark and bold, it suited Ethan in every respect. She let her hands travel lower, tripping along his spine, skating down and over to finally come to rest on his firm ass. Either Chaos kept him active, or he found time to work out.  
  
Ethan broke off the kiss with a groan, and bending Joyce back, began to work his way along her jaw line, whispering against her neck as he sought her collarbone, then descended lower along the V of her blouse until he reached the buttons. Not pausing he undid one after another, following the trail down.  
  
Joyce wrapped her right leg behind Ethan for balance as he bowed her farther back. She had never appreciated keeping up yoga over the years more than she did at that moment. Flexibility was a godsend.  
  
Swinging her up from the dip, Ethan pulled Joyce tightly against him, his arousal in close contact with her own thanks to her leg still hooked around him and skirt now bunched near her waist.  
  
“Much as I would love to take you right here and now, I doubt your customers would appreciate it,” he sighed, frustration evident at trying to do the noble thing.  
  
Joyce stole a glance at her watch. “Since I officially closed five minutes ago, they aren’t a problem.”  
  
“Wouldn’t want you to lose any business on account of me.” Without preamble, Ethan hoisted Joyce up and onto the nearby counter-top.  
  
“You break it, you buy it,” she warned huskily as she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. She reached out and lightly traced along his chest, around each nipple, out to each shoulder, back in and down. Not too defined but she could tell he took very good care of himself. Oh, did he ever. She bit her lip, appraising him as he stood before her, shirtless and sleek.  
  
She watched, enchanted, as he gradually moved his hand up her thighs, thumbs grazing the sensitive insides. Reaching his destination, he hooked his fingers in the elastic. Joyce propped herself up, as Ethan slowly drew her underwear down and off.  
  
Grabbing his waistband, she pulled him close while undoing belt, button, then zipper. Straying inside, her hand brushed against bare skin. She felt his cock jump in response to her presence. Joyce smiled, pleased. “Still no use for underwear, I see.”  
  
“It’s a nuisance.” Then, reaching in his pocket, he pulled out and handed her a foil wrapper. “As are these. But I like to be prepared.”  
  
“Or you’re just conceited,” she said, tearing the wrapper with her teeth.  
  
Ethan watched as she slid the condom on him. “You don’t seem to mind.”  
  
“I hide it well.”  
  
He struck fast, capturing her mouth and drawing her into position.  
  
“Ready?” he asked.  
  
Joyce nodded before deepening the kiss. Ethan swallowed her cry as he entered her. She shifted then, letting him in farther. Arching back, Joyce had to admit this more than made up for any conceit the man had. Not only was he good, but he felt wonderful inside her. She began to move then, setting things up for him to follow or change if he would.  
  
Ethan’s arm slipped around back, unhooking her bra. Tossing the bra with the rest of their discarded clothing, he set about paying proper attention to her now free breasts. Between the slight chill and Ethan’s skill lower, her nipples were peaked and waiting. The first touch of his tongue, hot and slick, almost sent Joyce over. She held him close as he sucked in time with his movements.  
  
By the time he switched to the other breast, they were both close. Joyce angled her hips and his quickened thrusts hit just right. Seconds later she came, screaming his name into the empty gallery. He joined her, shaking as he spent himself.  
  
“Fucking amazing,” he breathed, leaning against her and the counter for support.  
  
Finally able to focus, Joyce opened her eyes to see Rupert looking at her with a mixture of anger and arousal. The door must have chimed, but she had been too far gone to hear it. How long he had been there?  
  
Sensing something was up, Ethan turned his head.  
  
“Fancy meeting you here,” he smirked.  
  
“Ethan. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” Rupert said calmly, even though appearances indicated otherwise.  
  
This had the potential to be awkward. Too late to avoid that now. Unabashed, with Ethan still buried within her, Joyce spoke. “I thought you and Buffy had a Slayer thing tonight?”  
  
“So did I. But I found myself at loose ends and happened by the gallery. When I noticed the lights were still on, I figured I’d stop in,” he answered, never taking his eyes off Ethan.  
  
“Great minds,” Ethan said.  
  
“What are you up to, Ethan?” Rupert scrutinized him.  
  
Unfazed, “I would think that was glaringly obvious.”  
  
“What are you really up to?”  
  
“Just passing through,” Ethan shrugged.  
  
Joyce could see this turning ugly fast. If she didn’t intercede soon, she’d have a full blown pissing contest on her hands.  
  
“Ethan, the bathroom’s just down the hall, first door on your left,” she prompted not too subtly.  
  
He looked at her.  
  
 _Let me handle this_ , she pleaded with her eyes.  
  
He seemed to take the hint. Pulling out, he quickly did up his pants. Ethan bent close to her ear, nipped lightly before saying, “Rupert enjoys making a fuss. Don’t let him fool you, he’s more turned on than anything.” Adjusting her skirt, he made his way to the bathroom.  
  
Once he was gone, Rupert opened his mouth to say something, but Joyce spoke first. “I know exactly what you’re going to say, but don’t. I’ve lived in this town long enough to know that no one is just in the neighborhood or passing through. But whatever business brought him to town is really none of my concern.”  
  
“Joyce . . .”  
  
She hopped down off the counter and walked toward him, still clad in only her skirt. “Can you tell me this never crossed your mind?”  
  
He looked at her mouth agape. She mentally cheered at having gotten him off track.  
  
“What has never crossed my mind?” he asked finally.  
  
“This,” she motioned to the room at large and herself. “It isn’t Ethan being in town that upsets you, is it?”  
  
He shook his head as she took closed the distance between them.  
  
“It’s that he got here first,” she said knowingly.  
  
“I just worry that—”  
  
“And I appreciate that you do, but I’m an adult, Rupert. I don’t fool myself regarding Ethan; I have a pretty good idea what he’s capable of, based on his first few visits to Sunnydale.” She sighed. “That aside, I do trust him in some small measure, at least when he’s with me. I couldn’t be with him if I didn’t. I know you didn’t like that fact when we first discussed it, and I’m sure you like it even less now. But that’s how it is. So until it’s proven otherwise, I’d like you to give him the benefit of the doubt.”  
  
Rupert was silent.  
  
“For me, Rupert. Please.”  
  
“You’re making her beg. How unseemly.” Joyce turned to see Ethan standing just inside the room, arms folded, surveying the scene before him.  
  
Joyce was about to say something when Rupert pulled her to him. Brushing his fingers through her hair, his hands locked behind her head bringing her mouth to his for hard, hungry kiss. Off-guard, she could do no more than let him claim her, pouring out his rage and frustration with heated passion.  
  
He ended the kiss, leaving her breathless and a bit dazed. If that was his response, Rupert needed to catch her with Ethan more often.  
  
“I told you,” Ethan said knowingly, taking his place behind her, mouth toying playfully with the dangling earrings she wore. She leaned back in response, wanting more. The man could do more things with his tongue than she thought were possible.  
  
But Rupert would have none of it. His right hand came up and brushed across her breast, caressing over and around, then cupping underneath while his thumb came up to gently massage the nipple. At the same moment he leaned in placing a series of quick teasing kisses against her lips before gently capturing the lower. Darting his tongue inside, he traced along her teeth and then farther along her palate, successfully avoiding her tongue.  
  
While Rupert was occupied with exploring her mouth to the full extent, Ethan’s right hand came from behind, capturing her free breast. Abandoning her ears and pulling back her hair, Ethan’s oh-so-talented tongue moved along her neck, testing for the most sensitive patches. These discovered, he used a combination of teeth, lips, and tongue to worry her into distraction.  
  
Not to be outdone, Rupert’s left hand, unoccupied until that moment, fanned across her stomach, around her waist, to her lower back where he traced lightly, drawing her closer to him. In response, Ethan’s left flitted down her stomach to plunge beneath the top of her skirt, fingers twirling ever lower through her curls until he reached her throbbing clit. Joyce moaned in frustration as she was denied the attempt to increase friction.  
  
Their hands were everywhere, restraining but at the same time driving her higher. She had never enjoyed being the center of conflict so much before. Rupert and Ethan’s competition only served to increase her pleasure, both men determined to give her the most. When she came, she was too overwhelmed to cry out. Their touch, seemingly everywhere, only further fueling the fire that consumed her.  
  
If not for being pressed between the two men, Joyce wasn’t sure how else she would be able to stand. While she recovered and her mind began to clear of the post-orgasmic stupor, Joyce considered her next move. It was apparent that the men needed some time alone to work things out. Well, she would just have to give it to them, wouldn’t she? That would give her ample opportunity to clean up the gallery for business tomorrow.  
  
“I think this requires a change in location,” she suggested, voice low and rough.  
  
“A change might not be a bad idea,” Rupert agreed. “My place?”  
  
Joyce nodded.  
  
They broke apart then, Joyce and Ethan seeking out their discarded clothing.  
  
“I have a few things I need to take care of here,” Joyce said as she refastened her bra. “Would you two mind going ahead?”  
  
The men looked at each other, then back at Joyce. Ethan smiled knowingly. He read her almost too well. Joyce thought about it for a moment and decided it wasn’t such a bad thing.  
  
“Come on, Rupert, I believe Joyce is trying to politely ask for some time alone,” Ethan said.  
  
“Joyce?” Rupert questioned.  
  
“Go, I’ll join you in a while,” she replied.  
  
Rupert inclined his head in agreement. “Ethan?” he motioned to the door and walked out.  
  
Ethan followed, but turned back to flash a wicked grin. No almost about it, Ethan definitely read her too well.  
  
Hearing the door close, she went and turned the lock. Fortunately no one had gotten curious and stopped in. She couldn’t help but smile at the image greeting an unsuspecting patron. Joyce may have seemed upstanding in public, but behind closed doors . . .  
  
Sighing, she made her way back into the main room of the gallery to clean things up. Joyce hoped her gamble would pay off and that she wouldn’t find one or both of them dead upon her arrival. They’d managed not to kill each other over the years, so being alone for an hour or so shouldn’t have any unfortunate consequences. And if things went as she hoped, well, so much the better.


	2. Art Deco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving Joyce at the gallery, Giles and Ethan must find a way to pass the time and not kill each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd by Sadbhyl.

“Don’t say anything,” Giles said as they got in his car.  
  
“What is there to say?” Ethan countered.  
  
Giles threw him an exasperated look before turning the key. The car gave a grumble before starting to life.  
  
Toying with the window, Ethan stated the obvious, “You could have said no.”  
  
Not bloody likely. Giles was learning very quickly that it was nearly impossible to say no to Joyce. Not nearly. It was impossible.  
  
“She already has us whipped, you know,” Ethan responded to his silence. “Joyce says go, so we go. And I know the last thing you want to do right now is spend quality one-on-one time with me.”  
  
Giles focused on the road. If he ignored Ethan long enough he just might shut up. Right. The chances of that were about as good as his saying no to Joyce.  
  
“Why in the hell did you have to come back now?” he said finally.  
  
Ethan flashed him one of his knowing smirks. “Because I knew it would piss you off the most.”  
  
The car came to a screeching halt outside Giles’ apartment. Grabbing his keys, Giles got out, slamming the door behind him.  
  
“Careful. Wouldn’t want you to destroy your Citroen on account of me.” Ethan warned with mock severity.   
  
Ripper reached out lightning quick, and grasping Ethan by the collar, flung him against the car, pinning him there, hand tight against his throat.  
  
“Don’t you dare use Joyce like that,” he growled. “She’s not some pawn to be used in your sick game against me.”  
  
“Give me some credit,” Ethan croaked against Giles’ hold.   
  
“I won’t let you hurt her. She’s been through enough,” Ripper pulled back somewhat.  
  
“I assure you,” Ethan said, taking advantage of his momentary freedom to break out of Giles’ grasp. He twisted behind and pinned Giles tightly against the car, effectively trapping him there, “harming Joyce is the farthest thing from my mind.”  
  
Ethan leaned close and bit lightly at Giles’ ear. Giles tried unsuccessfully to suppress the groan elicited by the act.  
  
Ethan’s tongue darted out, teasing the lobe. “You forget, Ripper, old man, I’ve always known you better than you’ve known yourself. The fact of the matter is, you never liked to share.”  
  
Giles attempted to deny this, but one of Ethan’s skillful hands found its way down and was firmly pressed against his already prominent erection.  
  
“And you know what upsets you the most?” Ethan whispered, massaging him.  
  
“That you’re still a smug son of a bitch,” Giles forced his voice to come out even.  
  
Ethan increased the pressure of his ministrations. Against his will, Giles found himself pressing back against Ethan, seeking more contact.  
  
“Is the truth really that awful?” Ethan coaxed.  
  
The blood having left his head, Giles was finding it very difficult to remember why exactly he had been upset. Ethan, always the master manipulator. While Giles may have forgotten, Ethan, it seemed, remembered exactly how much his touch always affected him. Just as his balls started to clench, readying for release, Ethan pulled back, denying Giles the satisfaction he craved.  
  
“What upsets you most,” Ethan said, backing away and waiting until Giles had turned before he finished, “is that when you walked in on Joyce and me, you weren’t sure which one of us you wanted more.”  
  
Jangling the keys he had managed to get a hold of, Ethan made his way toward the apartment, leaving Giles alone, frustrated in more ways than one.  
  
“Arrogant, self-serving, egotistical . . .” Giles muttered to himself.   
  
Setting his jaw, Giles began to walk toward the apartment. He knew full well that Ethan was just baiting Ripper to come out and play. Always did know the right buttons to push. Ripper smirked, he was more than willing to oblige.  
  
He found Ethan raiding his liquor cabinet.  
  
“Good to see you still have some taste. Twelve year old scotch, very nice,” Ethan appraised, grabbing the decanter and pouring himself a glass. Before he could drink, Ripper took the glass from him and drank it down.  
  
“How considerate of you,” Ripper said, voice smooth as silk, tossing the glass aside.  
  
“I have my moments,” Ethan stood his ground as Ripper approached.  
  
“Few and far between.”   
  
“Makes them all the more meaningful,” Ethan said lightly, moving to step around him.  
  
Ripper’s hand shot out, gripping Ethan’s upper arm hard enough to bruise. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
“Away from your liquor cabinet. Would hate to damage such a fine piece. Nineteenth century?” Getting no response. “I’ve always preferred more modern styles myself. Particularly Art Deco. I find the simplicity soothing.”  
  
Ripper narrowed his eyes, calculating his next move.  
  
“I am a man of many tastes,” Ethan clarified. Then looking at his arm, “Are you going to make a move some time this century?”  
  
Using his hold, Ripper swung Ethan forward, sending him flying against the end table. “You never know when to bloody shut up, do you?”  
  
Ethan wiped at his lip, bloody from biting it in his fall. “Apparently not.”  
  
Latching onto Ethan’s shirtfront, Ripper hauled him to his feet and held him close. “I would think after all these years you would have learned that much.”  
  
“And ruin my fun?” he blinked innocently.  
  
Ripper attacked Ethan’s mouth then, violently and unrelenting, tongue pushing inside with vicious intent. He subverted Ethan’s attempts to respond; Ripper was in control. And when Ripper had enough, he pushed the other man away.  
  
Ethan stumbled but managed to stay upright, challenging him to do his worst.  
  
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ethan said, backing up, leading, not retreating. “Letting go after all this time.”   
  
Ethan was back-handed into the wall. Then Ripper was on him, pinning him against the stucco. Ethan opened his mouth to say something more but Ripper cut him off, delving in deep, swallowing the smartass comment as he reached between them and undid his own pants.   
  
Finally, Ripper stopped and took a step back. With his pants open, his cock stood out proudly. “Why don’t you finish what you started?” It really wasn’t a request.   
  
Ethan dropped to his knees obediently, eyes dancing. In one swift movement, he took the shaft all the way into his mouth, head to base, and then reversed, tongue swirling to the tip. Then down again, tongue only, pressing firm against the underside.  
  
Ripper threaded his hands through the other man’s hair, as much for guidance as for balance. He let his head drop back, giving himself over completely. Ethan had always given great head, and the nearly two decades that had passed since the last time had only improved his skill. Soon Ripper felt the familiar tightening taking hold, but Ethan didn’t pull back and instead latched on firm, drawing him out.  
  
“God, Ethan,” Ripper came with a shuddering groan, hands jumping to the wall for support as he spent himself inside Ethan’s still working mouth.   
  
Ethan finished with a final lick and got to his feet, a look of smug satisfaction toying about his lips.  
  
Breath slowing, Ripper turned his head. “Upstairs. Now,” he said, voice commanding and cold.  
  
Without a word, Ethan started on his way, undoing his buttons as he went. Ripper watched as Ethan dropped his shirt, then turned his attention to his pants as he ascending the stairs. At the top he toed off his shoes, dropped the pants, and turned into the bedroom.  
  
Ripper shifted and his own pants fell to the floor. He kicked them away with his driving mocs, then slid off the boxer-briefs (unfortunately white). His sweater landed on the banister as he walked up the stairs. And his shirt joined Ethan’s pants at the landing.   
  
Ethan lay sprawled on the bed, propped up against the pillows and patiently waiting.   
  
The men faced off, never breaking eye contact until Ripper reached the nightstand. Opening the drawer, he removed the box of condoms and newly purchased lubricant, setting them on top.   
  
Ethan made as if to turn.  
  
“No.” Giles shook his head. To answer Ethan’s perplexed look, he got on the other side of the bed and knelt in front of the headboard. Gripping his hands at the top, he cocked his head to look at Ethan.  
  
“Ripper?” the man asked, uncertain.  
  
Giles shook his hand.  
  
“Rupert,” Ethan said. “This isn’t how—”  
  
“Things change, Ethan,” he said, Ripper creeping back for just a moment.  
  
When they had been together in the past, two things were an absolute certainty: they played rough and Ripper almost always took Ethan. He rarely liked to give up complete control. But on rare occasions, when he felt particularly trusting, he would let Ethan fuck him. The older they had gotten, the less Ripper gave up and the more he took, until he finally left having gone too far. And now, twenty years later, when he trusted Ethan the least, Giles was willing to give control to the other man.  
  
“Why?” Ethan still wasn’t sure. After all these years, the confidence still didn’t extend this far.  
  
Taking a deep breath and certain he would live to regret what he was about to say, “Because I want . . . because I need you.”  
  
Surprisingly, no witty remark or sharp retort came in response. Ethan simply nodded.   
  
Giles looked back at the wall and braced himself, waiting. Surely Ethan would use this to his full advantage. But if things were going to continue between the three of them, he had to be willing to trust Ethan this far.   
  
Instead of the cold, slick intrusion he had been expecting, Giles was surprised when he felt warm lips softly kissing along his left shoulder toward his neck and across to his right, then back. As Ethan approached his neck on the return trip, Giles felt one finger slide slowly inside, almost tentative. When the second finger was inserted, a groan escaped unbidden and his cock twitched back to attention.  
  
Ethan established a careful rhythm, giving Giles the chance to remember and relax. The fingers were removed and the head of Ethan’s cock pressed gradually into the prepared opening.  
  
“I will stop,” Ethan said, voice uncharacteristically soft.  
  
“Don’t,” Giles grunted as Ethan inched farther in.  
  
Finally, all the way in, Ethan pressed against his back, left hand by Giles’ on the headboard and right stroking lightly across Giles’ front. Ethan began to move, small thrusts at first, but then pulling out a bit more each time to sink deeper. His hand kept time, working through the delicate coarse hairs that covered Giles’ chest and stomach.  
  
“Fuck . . . Rupert . . . so good . . .” Ethan panted close to his ear.  
  
The right hand finally trailed low enough to brush against Giles’ aching cock. He moaned and Ethan grabbed on, pumping in front to match the rhythm he set behind. Giles clung to the headboard, already close again, but waiting for Ethan. Soon the other man began to tense and Giles leaned into the thrusts more. Ethan’s left hand worked over until it was resting atop Giles’ hand. He gripped tightly as he began to shudder. Giles came as well, overwhelmed both inside and out.   
  
They knelt there, worn and sweaty, coming down together.  
  
“What are you doing to me?” Ethan mumbled against his back.  
  
Giles was thinking the very same thing. What had they gotten into?

***

Joyce entered the apartment, careful to close and lock the door behind her. Setting her bag down, she took in the room. A scotch glass lay forgotten by a pair of pants. The end table had been knocked over and next to it lay Ethan’s shirt. She carefully picked her way through the debris. Things were quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe they had killed each other. Joyce shook her head. While something had gone on, it didn’t look like murder.  
  
She quietly made her way up the stairs, leaving her shoes at the bottom. Reaching the bedroom, she peeked her head in and smiled. Rupert and Ethan were collapsed on the bed, glistening in the dim light, asleep.   
  
Undressing, Joyce went to the foot of the bed. Oh so carefully, she got on and began to stealthily crawl up and between the two men. She could wake them up, but such a shame to disturb them when they looked so peaceful. It was probably the only time they wouldn’t argue with each other. Well, they would have a pleasant surprise to wake up to.  
  
Joyce lay down comfortably between them, Ethan on her right and Rupert on her left. She was just starting to drop off when she felt slight movement. She barely registered the feel of silk before she found her wrists tied and bound to the upper corners of the bed.   
  
Blinking her eyes open, she saw Rupert and Ethan watching her.  
  
“Good evening, Joyce,” they shared identical smirks.  
  
Joyce glanced at her restraints, and realized she could probably get out if she wanted to. But that was the last thing she wanted.


	3. Abstract Expressionism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payback can be quite enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by Mydeira. Beta'd Sadbhyl.

It had been very difficult for Ethan to pretend he was asleep with Joyce lying next to him, completely unsuspecting and naked, but it was by far one of the more enjoyable challenges he’d faced. For the second time that evening, Rupert had surprised him by going along with this little game they were about to play.  
  
“Can’t have her thinking we’re completely whipped, now, can we?” Rupert had used Ethan’s earlier words against him.  
  
While Joyce was clearly the dominant in this tryst between the three of them, Ethan knew from years of experience that it was never beneficial to any of the parties involved if that person was secure in their position. He applauded her for being able to manipulate things so he and Rupert would be alone together. However, that didn’t mean she was free from the repercussions of such a move. Payback was a natural consequence.  
  
Ethan cracked an eye open and saw Rupert looking back. He listened to Joyce’s increasingly even breathing, then nodded his head slightly. As one they struck, Rupert on her left and Ethan on her right. Before Joyce had a chance to register what was going on, they had her wrists lightly bound in red silk to the headboard.  
  
“Good evening, Joyce,” they greeted her.  
  
Her eyes darted to the restraints, a smile spreading across her lips when she looked back at them.  
  
“Whatever could I have done to deserve this?” she asked lightly.  
  
“Left us to each other’s company for far too long.” Rupert began trailing small kisses from her fingertips and down her arm.  
  
“First rule of rule of manipulation, Joyce,” Ethan gently caressed her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, “never leave your victims alone together.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she shivered as Rupert reached the delicate skin of her inner arm.  
  
Ethan swooped down, teasing her lips apart, tongue asking permission. Joyce readily obliged, granting him access. He plunged in deep, striking up a leisurely duel.  
  
She broke away with a gasp. Ethan looked down to see Rupert expertly teasing one of her nipples. Giving her a quick peck, he descended and latched onto her other breast. He bit lightly at the peak, feeling her arch in response. Rupert caught his eye and copied his ministrations. A series of short licks, a light nip, followed by a drawn out suck. When they started to alternate, Joyce was already writhing.   
  
Abandoning her breasts, they began to kiss their way lower, pausing to tease the more sensitive areas of her stomach and sides before continuing on until they reached her curls. Ethan faced off against Rupert over her sex, daring him to make the first move. Joyce’s legs parted wide, inviting them in. Taking advantage of Rupert’s hesitation, Ethan descended first, tongue sharp, just barely tasting her opening before running his tongue flat and firm between her folds and over her already swollen clit, her hips following of their own volition.  
  
Ethan heard Joyce release a ragged breath as he moved out of the way just in time for Rupert to duck down. Ethan’s gaze raked up along Joyce’s glistening body, alighting upon her face. Lips parted and eyes glazed she was the picture of wantonness. A tap on his shoulder from Rupert, and Ethan turned his attentions back to Joyce’s wet pussy. His tongue plunged into soft, moist flesh, twirling upon exit and then delving back in. When Joyce began to shift, he allowed Rupert to take over again. Back and forth they traded off, licking and sucking until Joyce’s climax seemed imminent, and then they retreated, sitting up to see her exasperation.  
  
“Wait...what?” she panted, voice tinged with distress.  
  
Then Rupert grabbed Ethan by the neck, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. The gentleness they had bestowed upon Joyce was gone, and a possessive brutality took over as they each tasted Joyce mixed with the other’s own unique flavor. Rupert pressed close, seeking more, his erection rubbing against Ethan’s own. Ethan barely registered Joyce wriggling uncomfortable and trying to get free of her bonds. Oh, but the show was far from over.  
  
Ethan ended the kiss, tugging Rupert’s lower lip between his teeth.  
  
“Fuck me, now,” he rasped. Then for added measure, “Fuck me, Rupert.”  
  
That elicited a groan from both Joyce and Rupert.  
  
Why Rupert and not Ripper? Ethan thought about that while Rupert got ready. Earlier when he’d been alone with Rupert, something had been different. There had been something more than a simple coming together of two bodies. Ethan wasn’t certain he wanted to pursue that line of thought further, if ever. Maybe things had changed.  
  
Fortunately, Rupert chose that moment to enter him, cool and thick, sparing Ethan any more thinking. He faced Joyce as Rupert began pumping into him from behind, focusing all of the intensity of what he felt toward her.  
  
“Please?” she begged, voice desperate.  
  
Not one to deny a beautiful woman her pleasure especially if she begged, Ethan leaned forward, Rupert moving with him, and he used his mouth to build Joyce back to climax.  
  
Ethan had just reached down to give himself some release, when his hand was swatted out of the way and replaced by Rupert’s battle calloused one.  
  
“Harder...Ethan” Joyce gasped.  
  
Ethan complied, and soon she came, her juices flooding his senses. Unable to hold it off, Ethan followed her with his own release next and pulled Rupert over after.  
  
A tangled mass of sweat drenched flesh, the three waited for recovery.  
  
Rupert moved first, going off to the bathroom. Ethan then began to slink his way up over Joyce’s body. He hovered over her, matching his breathing to her own, as he watched her come back to herself.  
  
She blinked a few times before letting out a contented sigh. “Wow.”  
  
“That is an understatement,” he replied, trying to imprint her image on his memory. She glowed in the dim light. “Beautiful.”  
  
Her brow crinkled as she fought against a smile. “Getting sentimental?”  
  
“Appreciating,” he said simply.   
  
“Oh.”  
  
They were quiet for a moment, just being with each other. Maybe this wasn’t so terrible.  
  
“Um, are you going to maybe untie me sometime soon?” she asked lightly, breaking the mood.  
  
“That all depends on you, my dear.”  
  
“Me?”  
  
“Have you learned your lesson?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
“For the moment,” she grinned wickedly.  
  
“Feisty,” Ethan said, kissing her as he reached out and undid each of her wrists. He felt Joyce run her fingers smoothly through his hair.  
  
When they were done, she eyed him critically and reached her hand out to trace lightly over his upper arm, now sporting a fairly purple bruise.  
  
“Is everything ok?” she asked seriously.  
  
Ethan shrugged off her concern. “Nothing you need to worry about.”  
  
“Ethan.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” he said firmly.  
  
Joyce nodded, “Nothing.”  
  
There were some things better left between two people.


End file.
